


A Little Bit Longer

by ColonelOfSpades



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Sex, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColonelOfSpades/pseuds/ColonelOfSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Using his emotions against him was easy, sharing them in some regard was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit Longer

"Your hair is getting long."

Her fingers took hold of a small clump of the dark brown strands and she toyed with the soft fibers a moment too long before withdrawing her hand.

"Mhm..." Came the low, sleepy drawl. He shifted to lay on his side, arm draped across her lap. It almost seemed as though he feared she would leave, and he might be right. The moonlight from the window cast a pattern of muscle and scar tissue along his side, the rest of the map of his work hidden under covers haphazardly tucked around him. Her hand was laced in his, fingers twined together in a grip that was rapidly loosening as he drifted off.

_I'll only stay a bit longer._

A week ago she had been in Belize, infiltrating a copycat Umbrella organization and uncovering a large supply of the Las Plagas plague, originals that had been stolen from the cult in Spain. Two specimens and a burning facility later, Ada boarded her plane home earlier than anticipated. Looking at them in their tanks of liquid, she almost felt sickness ail her instead of the usual morbid curiosity. Leon had one of these things attaching itself to his spine at one point, and the less thought about that the better.

She had returned 'home' in time to find that that little imaginary string that dragged them together had centered itself somewhere in New York. Before, it had been in California near Christmastime. They had no idea what the other was doing there, but she took his arm and they walked through the throngs of crowds scrambling for gifts in a silence so comfortable, she'd have been more upset if they deigned to speak. She didn't let go of him throughout the evening and deep into the night. It wasn't until morning that she disappeared out of the hotel and didn't see him again for years.

Chance had no place with them, and as such, she could not say it was chance that made the night happen as it had. Just as before, she knew they were searching for each other, and just as any other mission where they crossed paths she had the upper hand- the information he never seemed to grasp in time. For his part, Leon hadn't seemed too surprised when she'd arrived at the hole-in-the-wall bar he was drinking at. He seemed all too-ready to pay his tab and escape the howl of a dozen TVs blaring sports teams neither of them had the time to keep up with.

She didn't believe in fate or love or true, physical and emotional absolutes. Those only existed in fairytales where the princess was rescued and she and the prince lived happily ever after. No, he may be a 'knight' of some fashion, but she was a dragon, not a fair damsel. They fought as often as they cooperated, and though there were certainly no true paths before them, something drew them to each other. It was something she couldn't explain, nor could she admit she liked in respected company, much less to herself.

As he settled, breathing slowing and the barest of snores escaping him, Ada disentangled herself from his arm and lax hand. Jumbled heaps of denim and cotton, silk and lace were tossed on his dresser or scattered on the floor around the bed. She left them as they were and slipped out of the room, walking silent as a cat as she crept into the living area of his apartment. New York still whined and breathed outside, lights from the nearby plaza clinging to the edges of the drawn blinds and peeking through the slats.

Magazines and books were scattered about the room, a few cups and bowls accompanying them and some other miscellaneous clothes in a nest of bachelorhood. She couldn't call it the worst she'd seen, but loneliness had been Kennedy's stark friend despite his likeable nature and many associates through his missions.

A bottle of aged whiskey sat on the top of the fridge in a sparse collection of liquor and she poured a cup with water and ice before she moved to the windows, tugging one slat down with her finger to peer out into the night. This area had the effect of being bustling and sleepy at the same time. Noise and light pollution filtered through the dense collection of tired-looking buildings, barely cordoning off the block from the Plaza. Its constant entertainment of tourism and self-proclaimed rock stars was barely held back to let the buildings' occupants sleep at night.

In another life, she wondered if she'd nag at Leon to pick up the mess on the coffee table, or he'd complain about a missing remote, or her makeup crowding the bathroom. She took a sip and let her thoughts wander as she stood next to the window, leaning on the wall. From here, it felt as though she could survey the block, eyes already scanning for suspicious vehicles or persons too interested in the apartment complex.

In the moments when Ada Wong and Leon S. Kennedy clashed, it was like a fierce storm, all adrenaline and movement and business. It was so... unthinkable that she'd be left with only her thoughts in a calm, almost tranquilized environment. No alarms beeping, no messages flooded her phone, no rapport of gunfire, no new instructions. There was a clock on the table that blinked '00:00', making her feel almost trapped in the moment- in time- and she was acutely aware of how much that centered around the sleeping man in the next room.

Her mind crawled back to Raccoon City. It rarely did, considering how poorly the mission had gone- accomplished, but almost at the expense of her life. Not to mention that being for a stupid, subconscious desire to repay Kennedy for the bullet she had pulled out of his shoulder. It was years before she saw him again, and something else edged into the surface of a dark pool of thoughts she never thought she'd have to confront. Every time since, she had looked deeper despite herself and fought against the tide he seemed to encourage.

Without that hellish City and Umbrella, they would never have crossed paths. Perhaps Leon would have been introduced to some wonderful lady who swooned and chirped and twittered on the edge of every word of the new police chief (Chief Burns had been a decent man at some point, Ada surmised; Leon was better). Perhaps by now he would be a father, as Ada refused to believe that with his sense of survival and adaptivity, not much could cut his life short. He'd live and retire, grow old and die surrounded by friends and his blonde wife with their kids, a little house, and... Perhaps a dog. She stared into her cup and wondered what she felt about that turnout.

She never considered them more than associates, occasionally- usually- on either side of the law. She couldn't even call them lovers, given that love was a strong word usually reserved for the thrill of the hunt. Even so, there was a connection between them that she knew for a fact Leon had chased since Raccoon city, and then after when he learned of her survival.

Perhaps if she envisioned herself in place of the fictional blonde.

But that was almost as unsatisfying. She had no desire for kids- maybe the dog, but the little house seemed confining, as did the imaginary weight of a ring on her finger. Physical absolutes were simply not reasonable to believe in. The ephemeral absolutes of love and emotion were the same. She believed in cause and effect. She teased Leon, he followed her. She tempted him, he fell. He held her, protected her, fought her, and she swam deeper into that pool of uninvited thoughts and emotions.

She finished off the glass as the sun began to peer over the edges of the buildings. Staring into the half-melted ice cubes, Ada Wong decided domesticity suited neither of them. Leon would be ill-fitted to the dredging life of a cop in a city like Raccoon. He would have been pulled into the government sooner or later in recognition of his skill. Perhaps they would never meet beyond that, but at least in that scenario he didn't end up with the imaginary blonde.

She set the cup on the table, using a sterilizing wipe from a nearby roll to clean the glass of her lipstick and prints. She crept back into the room, looking at Leon's form lazily sprawled across the bed. Another few steps and she slipped like a shadow back onto the bed- something she would never have considered a year ago and questioned even now. Suddenly, she wondered what he thought of her, of them. She knew- most of his colleagues knew, Wesker knew, Hell, anyone he worked with probably knew he had a deep affection for her. But he liked an Ada Wong he might have made up. Which Ada was it? How many had she been forced to create over the years?

She picked up one of his scarred hands and looked at the chipped nails, the callouses, the bruised and rough knuckles. She rested it on her stomach, her own hands placed on top of it as she leaned against the headboard and watched the rising sun try to poke through the blinds and dark curtains.

Introspection was no strong suit of hers- unless Leon Kennedy was involved. Though rare, there were actions she had taken that bore no purpose to her missions, but she couldn't have stopped herself if she tried. Insubordination, risking her own life, taking her time dallying with him, handing over information he may not need, offering assistance when they were working for opposite sides... She knew there was no real, positive outcome. It was all frustration and teasing and a game she felt all-too-comfortable playing now. It was better when she didn't feel anything for him, when teasing was just a way to rile him up- put him off the scent. Using his emotions against him was easy, sharing them in some regard was not.

Even now, she hadn't left the apartment yet. Two encoded messages, each asking her to go to the other half of the world, sat in her phone unheeded. She should have answered them and scheduled her flights, should have checked her travel information and left. Yet, she was still in Kennedy's apartment, warmed by whiskey and feeling nearly immobilized by an alien desire to remain. _Just a bit longer_ , she told herself.

She would deal with it in the morning, she decided- it was already too late and she was tired, both from activity and her drink. She shifted herself, tugging covers that had been curled around Leon to herself. Waking blearily in the process, he blinked slowly at her and rose a tired arm, as if in invitation. She shifted herself almost clumsily into his embrace and settled her head onto his bicep. Comfort was perhaps not the immediate word, but she did not dislike the heat Kennedy radiated. The pleasant hum he emitted as he drifted back into sleep was a nice touch as well.

_Just a bit longer._

**Author's Note:**

> First Aeon fic and first time writing after a massive hiatus from doing anything like writing. Do hope you enjoy, I've fallen into hell for Aeon


End file.
